


Sun Warmed Leather

by kuro49



Series: golden state [1]
Category: Sons of Anarchy, The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: M/M, Motorcycle Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:24:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another life, they could be brothers. God knows they looked enough alike. (This isn’t that one.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun Warmed Leather

**Author's Note:**

> You know who you are, and you are the worst kind of enabler (or, I am just too easy). This crossover is not even my idea but this might just be the most filthiest thing I have ever written. Tagged _Raleigh/Yancy_ because this is technically inspired by Becketcest feels all around.

Jax Teller is a small time gang leader that should have never made it on the FBI’s radar.

His club deals in guns and drugs and nothing Donald Ressler hasn’t seen before.

But here he is, in Charming, California, the seat of Teller’s Harley-Davidson digging into his back.

He has him trapped with his body, one hand draped down on the leather seat on each side. And they are not quite touching but they aren’t quite _not_ either when Jax widens his stance, grin curving into a smirk as he knocks the toe of his scuffed up shoes with the shiny black of Ressler’s.

“Agent Ressler,” there is engine grease on his hands, streaks of black against the front of that plain white tank he has on. With his dark jeans slung low over his hips, he has tattoos peeking out in stark lines and a FBI agent in a not quite embrace. His eyes gleam, and it’s wicked under a fan of golden lashes. “What a surprise.”

“You don’t look surprised.” Donald stands his ground, refuses to be pushed and pulled, this way and that by the way the other man has him crowded against the leather and the glinting silver metal.

“I may have heard a thing or two floating around Charming.” He replies with a shrug, tosses the wrench he’s been holding to the ground.

The clatter is sharp and loud, and neither flinches.

“So, you know.”

“Depends.”

Ressler raises an eyebrow as he waits.

“On if I get what I want in return for my supplier’s name.” His blonde hair is tied up, pulled back and away from being tucked behind his ears. The sun makes a halo behind his head, and the light is just enough to distract Donald from the way his eyes gleam.

“And what would that be?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you, Agent Ressler?”

Jax reaches out, wraps a hand around the knot of his tie and jerks him forward.

“What are you—”

He cuts him off with a kiss that is all teeth and bite and blood on his tongue.

 

Teller pushes him further back against the motorcycle with a hand that is claiming all on its own and it’s not comfortable but it’s an undeniable kind of good when he steps into his personal space, like he knows he fits into those flat planes, crowds Donald with a body that is all muscle and heat when he presses in close.

His feral smile takes over.

And it’s something Donald Ressler will never admit to when he opens his mouth to the kiss. He slides his tongue in, runs the tip of it against the edge of his teeth. And when he bites his bottom lip in imitation, in retaliation, for a groan, he chases the low moan that he gets from Teller and arches his hips off of the bike.

“You’ve got a KA-BAR on you.”

“And you’ve got a gun on you, Ressler.” Jax doesn’t quite reach inside his suit to run a finger along the holster that he imagines to pull taut across the broad of the agent’s back. But he does reach in to drag the ends of the man’s dress shirt from his pants. “I’d say we’re about even.”

The half smile is not quite a warning but they both know the grease-stained white tank that comes off, to fall on the ground at their feet, is only a start when Donald wraps a hand around the sharp jut of those hips and pulls him in.

“Hardly, Teller.”

 

In a way that should be painful, he is reaching back to dig his blunt nails into his arm. And it is when there are sets of five half moons marked into his skin, but it is also the kind of painful that gets him moving when he has him bent over his Harley-Davidson in broad daylight.

Ressler has his dress pants around his thighs, stubble burns up and down the inside from when Teller has been down on his knees, lips stretched wide around his cock. His tongue a press of fine, wet pressure as he swallows him down.

Now though, the metal of Ressler’s belt clanks in rhythm to Teller’s thrusts. His tie is undone around his neck, kiss-bruised lips parted against the sun-warmed leather of the motorcycle’s seat.

He fucks him open, and he fucks him deep, pushing him further and further until the FBI agent is no longer dragging white into the sharp black lines of his father’s grave over his arm. Instead, the man is bringing himself off in tandem as the ends of his dress shirts hide the obscene slide of his cock inside his ass.

When he comes, he splatters white over the black of the leather and the silver of the metal. When he comes, he comes with Teller’s lips pressing a faint kiss to the back of his neck, his rough hands almost gentle as he eases him through. Softer pants right by the shell of his ear as he follows him in succession.

“…My supplier’s name is Red,” Jax growls lightly into his skin, “thinks he’s better than thugs like us. But he liked my old man enough to run a few guns for the son.”

His tongue swipes across the faint bites he is leaving against the base of the agent’s neck in a claim that is entirely all too personal. Blue meets blue in a flash when Donald turns his head back, just a bit, just enough to meet him head on.

(And in another life, they really could be brothers. God knows they look enough alike.)

This isn’t that one.

“But you knew that already,” Jax smiles, still buried inside of him and it’s one made of promises when he pushes forward to kiss him sharply at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t you, Agent Ressler?”

 

XXX Kuro


End file.
